Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

a slow, languorous kiss, their tongues lazily tangling.
    Just as in the past, she melted for him. Yes, Lizvetta! This is what I need from you.
    But why give it to him now? He broke away. “What’s brought about this change?”
    “Do you care?”
    “Normally? Do pizdy. Now I’m suspicious.”
    “I thought you’d just been with Saroya and were trying to get with both of us in one night. I was pissed. And damn it, I was as jealous as the day is long.”
    Jealous? Finally! And only fitting, since jealousy still seethed inside Lothaire for Elizabeth’s imaginary man, and he couldn’t comprehend why.
    She rose up and kissed his ear, nuzzling it with sultry breaths, then she pressed her mouth lower to his collar bone. Another kiss on his chest followed.
    An imaginative male could think she was taking those lips all the way down. He turned to his back, his shaft surging in readiness.
    “My poor, poor vampire”—she tongued one of his nipples, making
him shudder—“all you ever wanted was me in a red teddy, giving you head.”
    Somehow he tensed even more. Voice gone hoarse, he asked, “Am I to have what I want at last?”
    “No.” She removed her gown all the way, tossing it aside. “Only the head.”
    “I suppose I’ll have to make do.”
    Her lips curled. “I’m hungry for you, Lothaire.”
    “Are you, then?” His tone was dubious.
    “When I sucked your thumb, I imagined it was the crown.” She continued her trail downward. “I’ve dreamed of it, too.”
    So that is what she dreams of? “Your behavior is . . . unexpected.”
    “Now, I’ve never done this before, so I won’t be quite as expert at it like I was at riding you.”
    Insolent chit.
    She dipped heated licks along his torso, his mortal lapping at him as she might a sweet treat. When she reached his navel, she sifted her nails through the crisp hair descending from it. Already he’d begun rocking his hips, his sac tightening.
    “You’ll have to be patient with me while I stumble my way through this.”
    Patient? His shaft hadn’t been sucked in eons; Lothaire wouldn’t last through her stumbling.
    Without warning, he traced to stand at the foot of the bed. “I’d rather teach you how.”

33
    T each me? Ellie thought dumbly as she lay back, marveling up at Lothaire. The sight of him standing in all his naked glory was dulling her wits—and setting her body afire.
    Her eyes lovingly took in the muscles tapering from his broad chest down to his narrow hips . . . the rigid hollows in the sides of his rock-hard ass . . . his erection jutting proudly.
    “Come to me,” he ordered her. “Sit on the edge of the bed.”
    Once she did, he took his shaft in hand, easing it to her mouth. “Lick the tip.”
    As she stared at it, she felt her face flush. Part of her disbelieved she was about to do this.
    Suckling a vampire’s member.
    She swallowed, then leaned forward to tentatively rub her tongue over it. From just that little contact, he groaned—while she grinned in wonder. His skin was so smooth there, so sensitive.
    “Again,” he bit out. “And look at me.”
    She gazed up, running her tongue along the slit.
    Voice strained, he asked, “Did you taste me?”
    “The tiniest hint of salt.”
    “Precum. This won’t last long.”
    “Don’t say that! I’m just getting started.”
    Yet another double take from the vampire. When he grabbed her hand, fitting her fingers along his shaft, it pulsated in her palm.
    As he guided her to stroke, he hissed, “Your hand . . . so soft on me.” When the bottom of her fist made contact with his testicles, another breath whistled between his gritted teeth.
    “Did I hurt you?”
    He found that question amusing. “No, you didn’t hurt me. My balls are heavy, laden with seed. They need your touch.” He made her cup them with her other hand.
    His stance widened to give her more access as she weighed them in her palm, fascinated.
    “Now run your tongue around the head.”
    She was spellbound as another drop of moisture beaded there, but she raised her gaze to his when she daubed the tip with her tongue.
    All those chiseled muscles in his torso contracted in a breathtaking display. From just my tongue? Exhilaration drummed inside her, wonder. . . .
    Arousal.
    Which was understandable, considering his addictive scent, his delicious taste, his utterly masculine reactions. “I think I’m gonna like this, Lothaire,” she said, just before she twirled her tongue around the bulbous